


Go Fly a Kite

by Janice_Lester



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Shore Leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones makes a kite.  Jim lounges on the beach.  Shore-leave is <i>awesome</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Fly a Kite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thistlerose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/gifts).



> Written for [](http://thistlerose.livejournal.com/profile)[**thistlerose**](http://thistlerose.livejournal.com/)'s [](http://fandom-stocking.livejournal.com/profile)[**fandom_stocking**](http://fandom-stocking.livejournal.com/), which is [here](http://community.livejournal.com/fandom_stocking/154171.html). Beta'd by [](http://secretsolitaire.livejournal.com/profile)[secretsolitaire](http://secretsolitaire.livejournal.com/).

“Shore-leave. We’re on second rotation, going down the day after tomorrow and staying three days. That suit?”

Bones looked up from the enormous, boxy red kite he’d been painstakingly constructing ever since the _Enterprise_ stopped at that huge craft-and-random-crazy-stuff bazaar on Kalet III. Most of the crew had bought the fancy hand-dyed knitting yarn, or sweaters made of same, or beautiful, hand-painted tapestry canvases, or intricately carved stone chess sets, or painted silks to make stylish civvies from. Jim had bought a book-binding kit and _everyone_ was going to get awesome hand-bound notebooks and things for every upcoming birthday and miscellaneous gift-giving occasion for the next few years (he was already gleefully anticipating receiving nasty memos from the quartermaster about a strange upsurge in requisitions for old-fashioned writing implements). But Bones? Bones had bought tough, waterproof cloth, metal rods of varying flexibility, strong twines of various kinds, hand sewing needles, and a bunch of other stuff Jim hadn’t got a good look at yet.

“Suits me fine, Jim. Gives me time for the finishing touches.”

“Because you want us to go fly a kite on our shore-leave? Like little kids?” Not that that wouldn’t be fun and all. It just seemed the tiniest bit random.

Bones merely shook his head and smiled mysteriously.

***

Jim lay sprawled on a recliner on the beach. It had a built-in refrigerated cup holder _and_ a UV-protecting shade umbrella. Add to that his real paper copy of _Treasure Island_ and his excellent view of Leonard McCoy—clad only in board shorts, sunglasses, and a thick, greasy layer of super-duper physician-approved sunblock—running along the beach trying to get his kite in the air, and Jim was pretty much set for the day, man.

And he’d finally figured out the deal with the kite. The subtle clues Jim’s genius brain had been able to interpret had included Bones’s insistence that they go to a beach rather than a park to fly his kite, followed by the production from the Bag of Secret Purchases of—among other things—a large fishing reel wound with line, and a packet of fish hooks.

It was a _fishing_ kite.

Bones obviously planned to sit on the beach all day, watching his kite bob and soar, occasionally troubling himself to haul in his line and see if he’d caught anything. It was, like, the lazy man’s way to catch dinner.

Jim approved, yes yes.

He also approved of Bones’s delighted whoop when the kite took off, rapidly climbing up and out over the sparkling, pristine bay so Bones could drop his line hundreds of yards out.

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he woke to the, er, utterly delicious fragrance of a dead fish being waved under his nose. He opened his eyes, and was almost blinded by Bones’s grin. It looked almost _evil_ , and Jim was faintly glad he didn’t see that expression too often.

“So,” Bones said, “the hunter-gather is victorious.” He waved the fish for emphasis. It was large and looked heavy and Jim sidled out of the way lest Bones misjudge his swing and break somebody’s beautiful sexy nose with it. “Tell me you can cook.”

Jim put on his best innocent face. “Sure. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Bones really did glare adorably.

***

Dinner was good, and saying so made Bones blush beautifully and start grumbling half-heartedly about the deficits of Jim’s usual diet.

“So,” Jim said, as they were putting away the last of their now-clean dishes in their rented villa’s tiny kitchen, “does the caveman want to demonstrate his sexual prowess to his adoring mate now?” He made sure to bat his eyelids just so.

Bones rolled his eyes. “This is going to become one of your obsessions, isn’t it? Neolithic sex romp role-play?”

Jim tried hard to look innocent, but he was already plotting how he could best get his hands on some animal print fabric or a nice leather loincloth…

***END***


End file.
